


Where are you OctoJohn?

by fresheima



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, OctoJohn, but yes fluffy feels, little octoJohn is having an adventure, maybe a tiny bit of angst but not real angst just... a slightly scared octoJohn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:02:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fresheima/pseuds/fresheima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little octoJohn goes on an adventure, but then Sherlock comes home and can't find his little friend...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where are you OctoJohn?

**Author's Note:**

> I still can't get enough of octoJohn, also it's still the 20th of August here and I hear that [ivorylungs](http://ivorylungs.tumblr.com) the creator of cute little octoJohn has her birthday, so this also counts as a birthday present for you, Manna. 
> 
> Also thanks again [Kia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kialna) for betaing, I do my silly mistakes a lot, but you don't mind, thank you <3.

John slipped through the door to Sherlock's bedroom and looked around carefully. Sherlock never let him in there alone, since he stored some of his experiments in here. He only took John with him, when he was going to bed, and would place the little half-human half-octopus creature next to him on the pillow, or in his jar full of water on the nightstand. Usually John liked sleeping on the pillow with Sherlock a lot more but... he shook his head. “Stay focused, John.” He said to himself. John was here for adventure and not daydreaming about sleeping next to Sherlock.  
John had never before seen the room from this perspective, the bed looked much higher from this angle and for a moment he thought about climbing up the drawer to get a better view, but then a pile of books in a dark corner caught his attention and John crawled there as quick as his little blue tentacles could carry him, which was pretty quick, or at least so had Sherlock noted, when he had saw him “run” for the first time.  
The books and magazines were stacked onto each other sloppily, some leaning against the pile. It was dusty in the corner and some of the dustballs sticked to his tentacles. Curiously he tried to examine one piece of fuzzy dust a bit closer and reached his tentacle out in front of his eyes to look at the tiny pieces it was made of, when John felt a tickle in his nose and let out a loud sneeze.  
“Eww.” John tried to blow the dust off and turned his attention back to the books. He carefully crawled around and over them, not wanting to push them over, when he suddenly saw a little gap in the wooden floor. It looked like there was something hidden under a big anatomy book. He pushed as hard as he could. Once, twice and after the third push, he moved it far enough to see that in fact there was a small hatch in the floor. Adventurous as he was, he slid a tentacle in the gap wiggling around a bit until he found the right angle and pushed the hatch open. It was dark and looked like some hidden safe or something. There was definitely room for hiding things.  
“I bet Sherlock keeps lots of interesting stuff down there.” He muttered under his now faster breath. This was so exciting. After a few more pushes and pulls, John managed to pull the hatch to the side, so he could climb down there. Usually he wasn't afraid of the dark, in the ocean it was dark too, but this wasn't the ocean and John could feel adrenaline pump through his tentacles. He was so focused on the dark hole in front of him, that he didn’t notice that through all the shifting, the largest pile of books had started to stagger a bit. The chemistry book that leaned against it, slowly slid away. Carefully John stretched himself until he had reached the floor of the hole with the tip of a tentacle, ready to flop down with the rest of the body, when the pile collapsed and the thick book blocked his way out. With a loud shriek he let himself fall down, although one tentacle was still clenched on the edge of the hidden safe. He was now jammed between the wood and the book. John let out a whining sound when he tried to pull it out and a chip of wood cut the sensitive membrane of this tentacle open and got stuck in there. It was almost a centimetre deep!  
He wasn't big enough to push the books away, and when he climbed up the walls he didn't have enough power to hold himself up and push at the same time, so after a few minutes of desperate attempts to flee from his trap, John curled up, embracing two of his tentacles with his arms and would he rock back and forth a little. It was a soothing motion and he tried not to think too much about how lonely and dark the hole was, and that he was trapped until someone would find him. Tears stung in his eyes, when he remembered that Sherlock told him he didn't know when he would be back from his case. Mrs. Hudson was out too, and even if someone came into the flat, they probably wouldn't even hear him. Maybe Sherlock would think he was gone or worse, he wouldn't even notice his little friend was gone. Panic rose in John and his little body shivered when tears rolled down his face.

It was past midnight when Sherlock entered 221b. He threw his coat over a chair and looked around in the dark flat. John was probably already asleep and Sherlock crouched down in front of the tank that was placed on the coffee table. Little bubbles floated through the water that was dimly lighted by green and a blue glow stick, but Sherlock frowned when he saw that the tank was empty.  
“John?” He asked, but got no answer. Quickly he turned on the light and scanned all of John's favourite places: the skull, the pillow on the arm of the couch, the kitchen table and even the sink in the bathroom, but his little blue friend was nowhere to found.  
“THINK!” Sherlock stopped the rising panic, took a few breaths and closed his eyes for a moment. Where would he go? Down to Mrs. Hudson? No she wasn't here, she’s visiting her niece. He opened his eyes again and looked at the tank, where he had last seen John in the morning. Little dried drops of water indicated he had climbed out of it, a quick scan through the room. Chair, no. Window? Was closed. Kitchen...maybe the fridge? No he wouldn't be able to open it. Bedroom? … Bedroom door! He had left the door open. A sigh of relief bubbled up in his lungs. “Stupid, Stupid.” He muttered, John was probably just snuggling up in Sherlock's pillow, sleeping. Sherlock gave himself a mental kick for falling into panic so fast. But when he stepped into his room his heart skipped a beat, the bed was untouched and empty.  
“For god's sake, where are you, John?” He hissed, already turning around when his eye caught the mess next to his desk. With two big steps Sherlock crossed the room. Quickly he got on his knees, pulling away all the books that had fallen over and tumbled across the floor. “John?” his voice was soft, when he saw the little being curled up into himself all silent and motionless.  
  
Sleepy John opened his eyes and looked up, it's wasn't completely dark anymore and Sherlock was kneeling over the hatch looking at him with what one could only call sheer panic in his eyes. “Oh Sherlock, finally.”, he whispered, still sleepy, but his tentacles already reached out and curled around Sherlock's warm big hands, he leaned into the warmth and now noticed, how cold he was. “I am so happy you found me.” He said, now with a more steady voice, still looking right up into his bigger friend’s eyes. “Gosh John!” Sherlock breathed out and finally the shocked look on his face faded into something much softer John hadn't seen often on the detective's face. Before he could say anything, he was pressed against Sherlock's face, his tentacles curled happily around the hallow cheeks and Sherlock's jaw, while Sherlock nuzzled into his blond hair.  
It was over after a few seconds, but John felt the warmth coming back to him, but then he remembered something. “Sherlock...I ..could.. could you have a look at this?” He blushed and hold his injured tentacle out so Sherlock could see it. “I think some chip of wood is stuck in there.”  
Sherlock gave him a short look that said Really John? Not only trapping yourself but also injuring? before he placed him on the kitchen table, to get the first aid kit.

While Sherlock took care of John's injured tentacle, John told him all of his adventure. Sherlock was back to his usual self, just giving short nods or a hum to make sure John knew he was listening, but John couldn't forget the hurt and shocked look on his face. So when he was plastered up with some water protective bandage, he quickly curled around Sherlock's hand and crawled up to his shoulder. He snuggled into the crook of his neck and sucked the underside of his tentacles against Sherlock's pale skin.  
“Don't leave any marks there.” Sherlock growled, but John could hear the smile in his voice and pecked a kiss against the high cheekbone. “Thank you for saving me, Sherlock.” He said.  
Sherlock chuckled a bit, and let himself fall down on the couch. “It was a rough day and I have to think a little.” he announced, before he closed his eyes and lifted his hands under his chin.  
“Okay.” John whispered, before he closed his eyes too and quickly drifted off into his dreams.  



End file.
